


The more you rile me up the closer I get

by Snoozydog



Series: Sleeping arrangements [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angry John, Angry Sex, Fighting Kink, Jealous John, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 10:07:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16344764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snoozydog/pseuds/Snoozydog
Summary: Jealousy is driving John crazy when he sees a picture of Lestrade and Sherlock kissing. It is threatening to get out of control but not in the way he expected.





	The more you rile me up the closer I get

**Author's Note:**

> Could be read as a stand alone I guess but makes more sense if you read the other fics of Sleeping arrangements first, or at least the previous one.

The atmosphere in the flat was so thick you could slice it with a knife and the way his anger was surging through him at this exact moment John was quite temped to give it a try. A knife would be preferable to end this chaos running havoc with his mind right now. Too bad no one was at the recieving end of that knife just yet.

He’d been confronted by a reporter on his way back from work yesterday, camera in hand and asking for a comment on a very public display of affection between Sherlock Holmes and a certain detective inspector Lestrade from Scotland Yard.  
“It will be in the papers tomorrow, would you like to make a comment, share your point of view?”  
When he didn't answer that first question thrown at him, the reporter just kept going.  
“Are they an item?”  
“Do you and Mr Holmes have an open relationship, Dr Watson?”  
“How do you feel about them kissing?”  
The questions had felt like hail crashing over him, at first just intrusive and confusing as he didn’t understand the context. When being shown the actual picture of the kiss he had lost it completely. Unable to conceal his anger he had demanded to be left alone, ignoring the way the reporter took a picture of him as a way of response. When unable to shake the man off he had simply hailed a cab and left. At first unsure of where he was supposed to go, Baker Street was far from work and his credit card already under threat of becoming overdrawn he had settled for a short ride closer to the city centre, stopping by a tube station to escape down there for the rest of the journey home. 

When finally arriving, Sherlock wasn’t in the flat.  
Probably with Lestrade no doubt. Having public sex perhaps John thought bitterly. He felt himself puffing with anger at the situation without really understanding why he was so upset.  
After the revelation of Sherlock’s sleeping arrangements with half of the staffers at the Yard there had been some sort of cold war situation going on between them. John had stayed out for several hours, walking around Regent’s Park aimlessly, thoughts running wild, anger combined with confusion bubbling inside him without the relief of an outlet. Unable to come to a satisfying conclusion to why he had reacted the way he had to Sherlock’s confession and what he was truly feeling about any of this he had finally gone home simply to find Sherlock being in a foul mood, torturing the violin with screeching noises by the window, back turned against the room for the rest of the evening. 

The next morning was quieter but still frosty, although on speaking terms they clearly blamed the other for this new situation. Sherlock probably thought that John had overreacted and now was bringing a stifling atmosphere into their home, which was what he had wanted to avoid all along. In fact, that had been his reasoning for not involving John in his plan to send Lestrade a message that he was already sexually occupied, no room for a pining detective inspector, wasn’t it?  
And here John came along and complicated things anyway.  
He could feel Sherlock’s irritation radiating of him in waves in his direction. And he had a point, this was not a happy outcome, this pent up frustration between them. But John couldn’t shake the feeling of having been overlooked somehow. It was ridiculous, he knew it of course and he didn’t have any claims on Sherlock whatsoever. But still it rankled him. 

The thought of Sherlock and Lestrade in the first place gave him acid reflux but the fact that the detective had also slept with Donovan and Dimmock of all people irritated him even more. It was a stupid plan to begin with, it would take someone as stumped regarding human relationships as Sherlock to come up with something like this. But what annoyed him the most was the fact that it annoyed him at all. Why did it bother him?  
And the creeping suspicion that it was simply jealousy and envy didn’t sit well with him at all and only meant his mood deteriorated even further. 

And now this.

He could still see the picture in front of him. Lestrade’s mouth devouring Sherlock.  
Sickening.  
And why had it happened at all? Had Sherlock caved in to the D. I’s advances? Had he given up on his plan and just succumbed? Had he maybe realized that sleeping with Lestrade wouldn’t be that bad? As he had so succinctly put it, he wasn’t averse to the idea of sex with Lestrade in itself, it was more a case of not wanting to complicate things workwise. Maybe he felt that the way the situation was at home right now, things couldn’t really get any worse? Maybe he would be moving in with Lestrade instead, now that he and John weren’t on the best of terms anymore?

He shook his head trying to clear it from irrational thoughts. No point in speculating until knowing all the facts. And if things were going to hell anyway he was at least going to have it all out conversation wise. No point in keeping anything bottled up anymore.  
But the anger he felt when mentally seeing Lestrade having it on with his roommate, a full-blown snog in the middle of the street, made his blood boil and his thoughts went off on a rampage through his system again.

This was the state he was in when Sherlock finally came home, hours later.

As Sherlock didn’t say anything while throwing his coat on the back of a chair and acting as if John wasn’t even there, he decided to get things started himself.  
“Do you know what happened to me on my way home from work today?” he began, making sure to try sounding neutral to begin with. No use in starting something the very first minute.  
Sherlock purposely avoided looking at him, removing his jacket and laying it on top of the coat.  
When he didn’t say anything, John continued.

“Evidently they will be running a story in the tabloids tomorrow featuring you.”  
Sherlock shrugged, still not looking at him. “So? They do that all the time nowadays. “  
“Well this time it’s a little different from all the other times you’ve featured in the media. It’s more personal. More sleazy journalism…”  
He made a point of putting emphasis on the word sleazy to get a reaction. It worked. Sherlock turned his head towards him with narrowed eyes.  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”  
“Sleazy as in Lestrade slathering his mouth all over yours in public.”  
Sherlock whirled around facing John, surprise and suspicion in his eyes.  
“How do you know about that?”

Anger flared inside John, making him rise in his chair, stepping up to Sherlock.  
“That’s your question? How I know about it? I’ve not stalked you if that’s what you’re thinking.”  
“I wasn’t thinking that.” Sherlock snorted.  
“A reporter showed me a picture of the two of you while asking if I wanted to make a comment. Because like everyone else he thought we’re an item.”  
“Ridiculous.”  
“Yes, I can see that you would think that.”  
This made something flare in Sherlocks eyes and he sounded exasperated when replying.  
“Oh, for God’s sake, don’t start this again! You get defensive when people make assumptions about us as acouple, but you get equally angry when I didn’t involve you in my plans to make Lestrade stop hitting on me.”  
“Must have changed your mind about that evidently!”  
The tone in John's voice had risen during the conversation and the irritation in Sherlock’s eyes was clear. It would turn into a full-blown argument soon enough. But John wasn’t backing down.

“So that story you fed me the other day, that you were trying to spurn his attempts, was it only one of your usual lies? Because you looked very lovey-dovey in the picture I saw!”  
“As usual you’re not very observant…”  
“I know what I saw, Sherlock!”  
“You take a quick glance at a picture and think you know how things are, do you?”  
“Well, inform me then!”

Sherlock pivoted on his heal, huffing with irritation, trying to walk away but John quickly grabbed a hold of his arm.  
“Don’t try to walk away from me, Sherlock! We’re going to talk this through even if that’s the last thing we’ll do.”  
“What for? You’ve already made up your mind about the situation. Why you even bother about this is beyond me, but I’m not going to try persuading someone as stubborn as you to see things differently. Let go of me!”

But John’s grip became even firmer, he wasn’t done yet.  
“You say that I don’t observe. But to me it’s quite clear what I saw. He was all over you in that picture and I’ve seen him enough times to know that he’s wanted to do that for a long time. Everyone knows that.”  
“What he wants and what’s really happening are two completely different things, John. Now, release me, I don’t want to be forced to hurt you!”  
“Hurt me? Are you kidding? I was in the army!”  
“So? I know martial arts, fencing and boxing. I could brake you right here on this spot.”  
“Try it and I’ll punch your scrawny arse to the ground in a heartbeat!”

Sherlock tried to brake free only to find himself in an even stronger grip. With his other hand he grabbed a hold of John to push him away, but John’s anger was making him quickheaded, so rapidly he managed to punch Sherlock’s hand away quite hard. This made Sherlock try to kick him instead, but it only resulted in him toppling over John as they both fell down on the rug. This signaled the beginning of a very quick but heated wrestling match on the floor, dirty tricks like hair-pulling and punching blows to the ribs fully allowed. John managed to snake his hand up and grab a full set of Sherlock’s hair while dragging his face closer to his, mouth overflowing with insults.  
Sherlock yelped from the pain and tried in vain to kick John in the shins so he would release him but to no avail. As Sherlock’s eyes were about to start tearing from the yanking of his hair roots John opened his mouth to release his torrent of angry abuse he had felt building up inside him since seeing that picture of the kiss. But what happened next was as much of a surprise to him as it was to Sherlock.

If it was the proximity to Sherlock’s full lips or the strange intimacy of their struggling bodies he didn't know but before he got to reflect on his own actions he pushed forward and felt his lips crash into Sherlock's. He could feel the surprise of his actions in Sherlock’s body movements, but he wasn't trying to withdraw and after a few hesitant seconds the kiss was returned.

The kiss deepened as John’s free hand, the one that wasn't still holding a firm grip of hair, tried to run over Sherlocks back. Sherlock relaxed into him and the kissing continued as the hair was released and both of John’s hands were now free to explore his roommate’s body with keenness. He had wanted this for so long but never hoped it could happen. Sherlock had always been firm with projecting an image of celibacy. Then that image was replaced by a persona that had too much sex instead, with inappropriate people like working colleagues. And then finally there was that kiss with Lestrade.... Jealousy surged through him again at the thought of it and the kiss turned into a forceful bite instead.  
“Ouch!” Sherlock yelped and tried to pull away but John wasn't ready to let him go now as they were finally getting somewhere. So he grabbed Sherlock by the back of his head and pulled him close again. He was going to delete every trace of that bastard Lestrade, Sherlock wouldn't be able to remember how the detective inspector ever tasted after John was through with him.  
There would be time for questions later and he still had many of those, but right now he had a beautiful, tall detective with tousled hair and a bruised mouth in front of him, and plenty of ideas on how to inflict some bodily harm on those gorgeous planes of pale skin while having the best angry sex of his life.


End file.
